


Rainy nights and long taxi drives

by hoaxsuicide (orphan_account)



Series: Ficlets Of 221B [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluffy, Fluffy as hell, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post Reichenbach, an adorably tired sherlock, basically fluff, but no angst, from a tumblr prompt-a-thon that i was havin gon my blog, more fics to follow, rainy nights, taxi drives, that's all i can think of for now, this is a sorry present for my crap updating times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hoaxsuicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only to be expected that a certain detective was this tired, having only have had a few hours of sleep and then proceeding to solve a particularly straining case in three days. The man had been reduced to a sleepy child and they hadn't even got inside the flat yet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainy nights and long taxi drives

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAARGH I'm so sorry!!!! I really am! (oh hi to all those reader that are new to me, but for my past readers...I'M SORRY!!!) Okay so i will update soon, i promise!!  
> This was the result of what I like to have called a prompt-a-thon on my tumblr and you can expect more ficlets to follow...oh in fact now I think about it I may add this to a series of '221B ficlets'...ah yes, good idea Molly.  
> Any way please enjoy, prompt detail at the end.

The night was a cold one, as much as an understatement as that sounded, it was true and it was as much as Sherlock could be bothered to come up with at such an hour. At this hour? Did this mean Sherlock Holmes was tired?! Yes it bloody well did…knackered as John would say.

Sherlock sat away from the taxi window, feeling the cold radiate off the glass as he watched the raindrops glow with orange light down the window pane. The taxi driver was thankfully silent, I think that anyone in their right mind would be this late at night, or was it the morning? Sherlock's body clock that he had fine tweaked for years had seemingly disappeared after the fall, he could no longer tell the time from instinct and he put it down to his stupid sentimental feelings erasing it from his memory.

The truth really was that he couldn’t bear to know the time while he was in hiding, couldn’t bear to count down the seconds, his brain wouldn’t shut off with crossing off the minutes until he could see John again.

John…

John was sat next to him, pressed shoulder to shoulder seemingly unintentionally. It had been around six months since then and things still felt like they weren’t cement yet but if John wasn’t willing to talk about it then neither was Sherlock.

He focused his attention back to the outside world. London’s night life whizzed past his vision, only parts of it exposing themselves when they drove past a bright light or open restaurant, flickering image of people and other cars announcing themselves through the bright dishes of their headlamps.

Just as Sherlock was beginning to recognise some of their surroundings more clearly, the rain became heavier and it rattled fiercely against the roof of the cab. He could hear John sigh in disdain next to him and when he turned he could see the doctor looking out of the window much like he was doing.

John looked tired, he imagined he looked very much in the same state. They had spent the past two hours sat in a dingy alleyway on a stake out and the last hour they used running through rainy London after a famous jewel thief. Luckily a police officer had been doing the rounds and had crashed into the criminal, spotting the two furious men running after him a second later and snapping cuffs on the man. Good thing he did too otherwise they might have never caught him. The rest of that hour was spent in Lestrade's office filling in the appropriate forms, a dull task, and now they were finally heading home.

The taxi pulled up outside of 221B and, without a word, turned round for an expectant tip. Sherlock gave her a glare and fumbled in the pockets of his coat before dropping the fee in the drivers’ hand, she nodded and faced the front once more as Sherlock huffed open his door and got out, watching John do the same.

He walked around the car, the tarmac glistened orange in the rain and he could feel the water seeping into the hem of his trousers. Jamming his hands in his pockets and bowing his head, he was so exhausted that he barely realised John hadn’t moved until he had pretty much collapsed on him.

The water slowly doused them, seeping into what seemed like their bones as John fumbled with the key to their flat, Sherlock's weight on his back probably didn’t make the task any easier.

“Hurry up.” Sherlock whined, he hadn’t slept in three days and he could see himself sleeping out here if the moment so called for it.

“Alright you stupid bastard, my hands are cold.” The doctor replied in a light hearted frustration and then finally the click of the lock sounded and both men nearly fell into the building. John shook the rain from his coat as he hung it up whereas Sherlock was just happy to be in the warmth once more, he leant against the doorframe of the hallway, his posture hardly having changed from when he was outside, arms crossed tightly around his wet coat and head bowed in fatigue. He seemed about ready to fall to sleep on the spot.

He heard John sigh and a second later he was being maneuvered out of his coat by familiar hands. He shifted a little and tried to help but it felt like his limbs were made out of concrete and his eyes didn’t seem to want to open so instead he just leant on John.

“This is ridiculous, I told you not to stay up, but what did you do?” John chided, his voice soft and warm in Sherlock's ear as he wrapped his arms around him, guiding him up the stairs to their flat. Sherlock mumbled in disagreement, if he was more awake he would’ve probably stated that sleeping was useless at that moment in time but instead he allowed himself to be lead into their living room.   

They didn’t travel far until Sherlock's calves hit something and he was urged to sit down on what he deduced to be their settee. His eyes fluttered open slightly only to be met with the darkness of their flat and a silhouette above him that belonged to John.

“I don’t have the energy to carry you to the room…” Two strong hands on his shoulders, “Come on now, lie down and for god’s sake, go to sleep.” Sherlock complied easily, shifting his legs up onto the seat and resting his head on one of the cushions. He could hear the rain pattering on their windows and somewhere off in the flat the wind blew fiercely through an open window.

He felt the settee shift in weight slightly and suddenly there was a warm body curled into his, Sherlock accepted it gladly and moved his head so John could rest easily on his shoulder. John sighed into his neck, resting an arm around Sherlock’s waist. His hair was damp under Sherlock's chin but he was warm and for that Sherlock was thankful.

“You did well today…” John muttered and Sherlock felt his lips moving against his neck as he spoke. Despite his tired state the detective managed to crack a smile.

“When do I not?” his voice was thick with sleep and he felt John respond with a small chuckle. In the distance on London a bird chirped loudly, suggesting that the morning wasn’t as far as they had suspected. Sherlock imagined this rain would go on for most of the day but it hardly bothered him, he could deal with rain.

He could smell John's cologne, a cheap brand that he often wore on a daily basis with a musky, almost spicy smell about it. John of course did own more expensive fragrances but he saved them for when they went out for dinner or such other occasions, not for cases.

There was a squeeze on his arm and Sherlock could sense John's gaze on him.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep…” Sherlock twitched a small smile, John had obviously known him long enough to recognise all the typical signs to represent him thinking. The doctor settled down again and Sherlock sighed deeply, exhaling all the thought from that day, all the deductions, all the smells and all the tastes. London rain poured on the murky streets and washed his mind clear of any other sound a part from John's breathing when, finally, sleep claimed him.

  

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was given to me by scaredsherly on tumblr and it was...
> 
> "molly molly please write some hurt/comfort? maybe cuddles in a rainy night? post-reichebach or after particular dangerous case? mainly sweet words because I'm a sucker for those<3"  
> so there :3  
> Oh y the way, if things go in my favour tonight, I will be uploading a smutty treat for halloween...IF...  
> Please comment, it keeps me going!


End file.
